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Robert Swindells: Daz 4 Zoe

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Robert Swindells Daz 4 Zoe

Daz 4 Zoe: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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This dramatization of Robert Swindells' GCSE text depicts Britain in 2051. It is a divided country: half the population shelters in fortified suburbs, the other half smoulders in sealed-off ghettos. Zoe is one of the privileged; Daz is a semi-literate ghetto dweller. Then they fall in love.

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Mister James sez Wots got in 2 you Darren? He calls me Darren. its a fursday and i’m in school. i dint jack it in cos i’m not in Dred. Well its som wear to go innit.

Noffing sir i sez, but thats a fib. somfing got in 2 me alrite and i know wot. Subby girl got in 2 me but i cant tell him that, can i?

It screwed evryfing up, that nite. Evryfing. i wish it never happen but it did. i cant stop finking abowt her, even thogh i know she dont give a monkeys abowt me. Subbys dont fink we human even, but i fink abowt her all the time. How she hung abowt 2 say fanks. Kiss me. Gotta mean somfing, rite?

Rong. Dont mean noffing. Subby trash playing arownd, like thay do. i wish i never helpt em. i do. Mick stopt coming 2 school. He’s in Dred. Only com 2 school cos i do and now hes gon. Week after that nite i call rownd his place. Arst him 2 fix anovver meeting wiv Cal. Yor joking, he sez. Cal risk his life 4 you and wot dos he see – he sees a guying lucking at Subbys like he lovs em. Sees a guy sooner help Subbys than his own sort. Own famly, mebbe. You make a prat outa me Daz, he sez, and nobody makes a prat outa me. Bog off he sez, and dont you com rownd no more.

i want 2 join Dred. i do, but i keep seeing Cal. Jumpy Gal. The luck in his eyes. The way he went frou that window.

So evryfings mucked up, rite? Only 1 happy our mam and she dont know abowt the girl. If she did she wont be 2 happy neever i can tell you.

Aniway thats wots got in 2 Darren Mister James.

Noffing.


ZOE

I really did feel better after I talked to Grandma. I’d been hatching all sorts of wild plans aimed at getting back to the Blue Moon, torturing myself with pictures of him finding someone, telling myself I could be that someone if only I wasn’t trapped in a cage called Sil-verdale. Now I found I had the strength to shut out these thoughts, and it was one less thing to fret about. It’s out of my hands, I told myself. I can only wait. It was sort of restful for a while.

I’m not saying it was easy. It wasn’t. Waiting for something you really, really want and probably won’t get is terrible, and it’s particularly bad if you can’t share it with those around you. I mean I couldn’t say to my parents, oh by the way if you find me a little tense these days don’t worry. I’m expecting a message from this Chippy guy I met, or maybe even a midnight visit, and if it happens we just might go off together. I couldn’t tell them I was under a strain, and so I had to try to be my old sweet self, answering politely when they asked about school and friends and things like that – stuff I didn’t care about anymore. It affected me in various unexpected ways.

Like that same Saturday. That day, while I was visiting with Grandma there’d been some sort of disturbance in the city. A riot. It happens a lot, and there’s usually a bit on the news about it, and then Dad will have something to say about Chippies and what he’d do to them if he were the government. He always says the same things, and I don’t pay it any heed because it’s just an automatic response with him and it’s not important, anyway – he’s never going to be the government. Mum doesn’t pay it any heed either – maybe she doesn’t even hear it anymore. Anyway, this item comes on screen and Dad says ‘Riot? I’d give ’ em riot. I ’d have a door-gunner in every ‘copter and cream ’em.’ He snorts. ‘They’d think twice before they’d riot again, I can tell you.’

As I say, he’d said it all before, only this time I got a picture of Chippies crumpling under a hail of lead, and one of them was you know who. I said, ‘They’re people, Dad. Some of them’re probably nice if you know them.’

He looked at me sharply, then his startled expression softened into a sneer. ‘Nice? I’ll tell you how nice they are, Zoe. One night a couple of months ago a bunch of Fairlawn kids drove into the city. Their folks thought they were visiting Goldengrove, and when they hadn’t returned at midnight a parent raised the alarm.’ He paused to create some suspense. ‘They found them next day, four of ’em, hanging by their feet on the forecourt of a derelict gas station, shot through the back of the neck.’

Mum said ‘Gerald!’ – like that. I guess she thought Dad ought not to have told me this horrible story but it was all right. I’d heard it ages ago from Tabby, who likes such things. I said ‘That was Dred, Dad. They’re not all in Dred. Most of them’re just poor folks getting along the best way they can.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I could see he was getting mad but I was mad too. ‘And just what in the bright blue blazes d’you think you know about it, Zoe? You, who’ve never so much as set foot outside of Silverdale in the whole of your spoiled little life?’

I wanted to tell him then. Oh, I did. About the trash and the dogs and the Blue Moon and Chippy eyes up close. The crowd closing in and the way we were saved. I wanted to see the look on his face but of course I couldn’t so I said, ‘Grandma says they’re people like you and me.’

‘Grandma’s an old lady,’ he said. ‘Her savvy’s out to lunch.’

Mum shot him a look because this was vulgar and also untrue. I didn’t say anything. I got up and walked out and went to my room and drew a helicopter and wrote ‘FAN’ underneath in big letters and left it around for him to find. Fan’s a Chippy word and he hates me using Chippy words.

Фото

So I was in trouble at home. This was on top of my original problem, plus the fact that my few friends were cooling off from neglect and I couldn’t get interested in anything.

Then, just as it began to seem that nothing would ever be right again, something else went wrong.

I got in trouble at school, and this was something new for me. I believe in keeping my head down so I don’t get noticed, and this has usually worked. I never got detentions or counselling or any of that stuff. Not until this day I’m going to tell about.

It was a Monday – the Monday after my Saturday clash with Dad. Modern History with Miss Moncrieff. I’ve never liked old Moncrieff and I usually switch off in her class because history’s so boring. Dates, dust and deadmen, right?

Anyway, it was Modern History and I was looking out of the window. It was one of those gorgeous mornings you sometimes get in October when the sun shines through mist and makes it look like gold, and the dew’s still on the grass and that’s gold too, and all the trees are red and gold and there are spider webs made of crystal lace. I was looking out the window, wishing I was out there walking hand in hand with you know who, and Moncrieff’s voice was droning on in the background. She was talking about something called the Franchise (Income Qualification) Bill of 2004. (Yawn, yawn.) Not the most riveting stuff, even the first time around, and this was the second time around because we were revising for the November exams. Well – the others were. I was rehearsing something else entirely.

Anyway she’s on about this bill and she must’ve spotted that I wasn’t paying attention and she stops droning and goes, ‘Why did the Dennison government introduce this bill, Zoe Askew?’

‘What bill, Miss?’ I asked. Well, she took me by surprise.

‘The bill I’ve been talking about for the last half hour while you’ve been gazing out the window.’

‘I don’t know, Miss.’

You could tell she didn’t like it. She grew very still. Her cheeks went white and twitched a couple of times as she looked at me. I felt quite nervous. I thought she might flip and fling herself at me, screaming.

She didn’t. Instead she started speaking, softly and very distinctly, moving her mouth in an exaggerated way like I was just learning to lip-read or something. ‘The Franchise (Income Qualification) Bill was introduced to correct an anomaly whereby those sections of the population which contributed least to society were able to exercise undue influence upon it through misuse of the vote.’ She looked at me. ‘Do you think you can remember that?’

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